


Patience

by inthrall



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unhealthy Relationships, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthrall/pseuds/inthrall
Summary: Wash has the day off. Locus has a few ideas to keep him occupied.





	

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so this was gonna be a part of "the arrangement" but it didn't exactly fit? but i was pretty happy with how it turned out so i thought i'd share. have some stand-alone unhealthy locington bondage.

Wash would never have thought that this would be a familiar position : bent over a desk, his fatigues down around his ankles, Locus’s fingers slowly stretching him open. Locus’s hand is heavy on Wash’s back, keeping him pressed down against the flat surface. 

When Doyle had given Wash the day off, this was probably not how he had expected Wash to spend it. But here he is, moaning as Locus’s other hand finally leaves his back to wrap around his cock. Locus pauses in his ministrations and Wash whines slightly. He’s long since given up on holding back the noises; Locus will coax them out of him eventually anyways. 

“I think,” Locus muses, “we’ll try something different today, Agent Washington.”

Anticipation and trepidation flood Wash as Locus stops touching him, instead going to Wash’s shirt. Wash raises his arms to help Locus tug it off, and then he lets Locus push him onto the desk fully.

“What do you want?” Wash asks, pretending he’s not nervous. 

Locus’s smile isn’t comforting. He tilts Wash’s head back, exposing his throat, and then begins to suck at the skin right beneath Wash’s jaw, causing Wash to shiver in his grasp. 

Locus’s other hand goes back to Wash’s dick, wrapping around the base and starting to jerk him off. “I’m going to tie you to the desk,” Locus mutters against his neck, “and then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

Wash finds himself nodding, bucking into Locus’s hand. Locus chuckles, amused as always at Wash’s willingness to do whatever it is that Locus says. “Lie down.”

Wash does as directed. Locus opens a drawer in his desk, and pulls out a length of grey rope. Wash tries not to think about how long it must have been there, how long Locus has wanted to do this to him. 

He starts with Wash’s left wrist, and Wash is surprised at how soft the rope is around his skin, although Locus cinches it tightly. 

Wash tugs slightly at the rope on his left wrist, but lets Locus loop the rope around his other hand. Locus ties it firmly before he pulls Wash’s arm back almost gently until his arms form a “Y” above his head. He ties the end of the rope off to the feet of the desk, and Wash pulls again, but finds no give. 

Locus brushes Wash’s hair out of his face, and Wash squirms. Locus being gentle is weird and uncomfortable. It’s not what he expects from the mercenary. 

He stays quiet as Locus sets about binding his ankles the same way. He’s got more slack in his lower half, and he’s pretty sure that’s not an accident. He knows that Locus likes to watch him move. 

Locus presses a finger into Wash’s already stretched hole and Wash braces himself for the sound of Locus’s codpiece hitting the floor. Instead, he hears the drawers open. Confused, Wash tries to raise his head to get a better look, but he stops cold when he sees what Locus has in his hands. Locus meets his eyes evenly, smirking at Wash’s expression. 

Locus places the cockring on first, and Wash starts to whine immediately, not liking the implications. He’s already hard from Locus prepping him, and he squirms as Locus strokes his dick for a while, winding him up further. His hips leave the desk’s surface, hoping if he gives Locus the reaction he wants he’ll let Wash come without much of a fuss. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes Locus just wants to watch Wash squirm and come undone until he’s satisfied. 

Then Locus slowly slides the vibrator into Wash’s ass and he shudders. It’s not that big, but it’s different and new, and Wash isn’t sure what to make of it. It’s not on yet, but Wash knows it’s only a matter of time. 

Sure enough, Locus flips a switch, and Wash tugs at the ropes as it hums to life inside him. Before long he’s writhing against the desk, panting hard and moaning, hips thrusting into nothing. Finally, Locus seems to have had enough, pinning down one of Wash’s legs with one hand to stop him from moving so much and switching it off with another. 

Locus absently takes a hold of Wash’s cock and starts jerking it. “Magnificent,” he murmurs, eyes roaming freely over Wash’s body. “It’s too bad we’re short on time.”

Wash is confused; he has the whole day off; Locus had told him to set aside the entire day for whatever games it was that he had in mind. 

“But I suppose you will still be here when I get back,” Locus finishes, reaching down and flipping the switch again. 

This time it’s not as high a setting, but it’s still enough to make Wash gasp. Then Locus’s words sink in. 

“You’re not serious,” Wash manages to say. He sounds breathless already, and he squirms, trying to find a weakness in the ropes to get free. “You--you can’t leave me like this, you  _ can’t-- _ ” 

Locus reaches over Wash and pulls something else out of the drawer. 

“No, please, no, don’t do this,” Wash says, tossing his head back and forth to try to avoid the green rubber ball gag Locus has in his hand. “Please, Locus  _ don’t--mmph! _ ” Locus presses it into his mouth easily, and Wash’s words become unintelligible. 

Locus yanks Wash’s head up to buckle the gag, then strokes his hair again.  

His hand returns to Wash’s dick, stroking him from tip to base. “I have four meetings this morning, Agent Washington,” he says. “I’ll come by after each one to ensure you’re... behaving.” He gives the cockring a slight tug. “After the fourth meeting, and only then, do you get to come.” 

Wash protests through the gag, eyes wide. He already can feel a desperate want building in his gut, he’s _so close_ , surely Locus isn’t serious?

“I’ll see you soon,” Locus chuckles, then walks out the door. He glances over his shoulder. “The door will be unlocked, Agent Washington. Do try to keep it down.” 

Wash whines, but Locus closes the door behind him, leaving Wash alone with the vibrator. Maybe Locus miscalculated, Wash thinks, tugging at the rope, hoping for give. Maybe it will be enough. It’s already driving him mad, the slow, constant stimulation. Locus must have left it on an incredibly low setting. Just enough to make sure that Wash can’t keep his mind off it, but low enough that he could be certain Wash couldn’t reach orgasm without his help. Especially not with the cockring impeding him. 

Finally exhausting himself, Wash leans his head back against the desk, panting heavily. The buzzing only seems to be intensifying, and he bites into the ball in his mouth to stop himself from crying out. The vibrator isn’t secured all that well, jostling inside him as he squirms. Taking encouragement, Wash restarts his efforts, hoping to shake it loose. Locus will only replace it when he gets back, he knows, but even temporary relief is appealing right now. The need in his gut coils tightly, but either the vibrations just aren’t enough or the ring around the base of his cock is just tight enough to stop him from finding release.  

Wash isn’t sure how long he’s there, hips thrusting up against nothing, trying to get free or find release, whichever comes first, when the door opens and Locus steps in again. 

Wash whimpers, straining towards Locus, pleading through the gag for Locus to touch him, to remove the toys, to fuck him,  _ anything _ . 

“Right where I left you,” Locus muses, walking around the desk until he’s by Wash’s head. He grabs Wash by the armpits and takes advantage of the slack around his ankles, pulling Wash forward until his head is hanging off the desk. 

The gag is unbuckled and placed on the desk next to Wash. Wash gasps, his jaw aching from being held open so long. “Please,” he moans. Something hits the floor but Wash doesn’t take notice, too preoccupied by everything else. “Locus, I need to--” There’s the sound of a zipper, and his words break off again as Locus forces his cock into Wash’s open mouth. Wash cries out, even as he obediently starts sucking Locus further in. His head is hanging upside down off the desk, and already Wash can feel the blood pumping in his ears. He’s never given head like this, and he’s quickly getting dizzy, desperately trying to gasp for air around Locus’s cock. 

Wash spots something small and black in Locus’s hand--a remote, maybe--and Locus presses the button. Suddenly, the vibrations from the toy in his ass increase and Wash is moaning and crying out around Locus, tugging at the ropes. Locus finally comes, and Wash swallows it down as best he can, choking and spluttering. After he seems certain Wash is done, he pulls out, leaving Wash gasping for air. “Locus, don’t leave, Locus don’t--” Locus picks up the ball gag again and presses it back into Wash’s mouth, and Wash takes it this time, not struggling as Locus buckles it securely in place again.

“Be patient, Agent Washington,” Locus says, adjusting the vibrator back to where it had been before. “A few more meetings.”

Wash calls after him as he leaves again, unable to help himself. His cheeks burn with shame and he realizes this is his own fault. He let Locus do this to him. He’d let Locus strip him naked and agreed to be tied to the desk. He’d thought Locus would just fuck him and be done, of course, but he still brought himself here, got himself into this mess. 

His eyes sink shut and he tries to just ride the waves, tries to see if he can find any source of friction, anything that can give him relief. 

He’s moaning low and steady now. He hears movement outside and his teeth clamp down so hard on the rubber ball he thinks he’s leaving marks. He pants hard into his nose, trying to keep quiet, mortified of what people would say if they found him like this, in Locus’s office, tied down spread eagle on his desk with drool dripping out of the corners of his mouth and his stomach damp with precum. 

Finally, the noises from the hallway go away, and Wash lets out a cry as the intensity suddenly increases. Locus has a remote, Wash thinks, thrashing hard enough he hears the drawers slide open. Locus is doing this in the middle of his meeting, Locus is driving Wash further to the brink, and Wash is arcing off the desk, hips thrusting, eyes rolling back into his head as suddenly, the vibrator turns off. 

Wash falls back against the desk, panting through his nose and whining. Need still fills every inch of his body, and his erection is painful, the cockring too tight around its base. 

Not long passes before the door opens, and Locus enters again. His hands slide down Wash’s chest, smirking at the mess he’s already made. His fingers lightly glide over Wash’s balls before sliding the vibrator out of place, experimentally pressing a finger inside of Wash. Wash moans, trying to beg Locus for more. 

Locus ignores him, leaving the vibrator out, and Wash flushes, realizing he feels empty without it. Locus removes the ball gag again, letting it hang from his fingers. He chuckles, his thumb reaching down to brush at the corners of Wash’s mouth, where drool has slipped out. 

“I trust you found this meeting exciting, Agent Washington,” Locus says. Wash whimpers as pitifully as he can manage, turning his head to suck Locus’s fingers into his mouth. Locus lets him for a few moments, desperately running his tongue over the callouses and scars there, but eventually Locus laughs, and pulls his hand away, wiping the saliva off on Wash’s cheek. “You are a fascinating creature. Do you realize what you look like? What you’ve become?” 

Wash manages to form words again. “Locus, please, please, I need to come, I’m--”

Locus tugs on his hair, and Wash cuts himself off with a whine. “Not yet. Open your mouth.” 

The gag goes back in, and Wash watches helplessly as Locus circles around him again, fingers trailing over every inch of Wash’s skin, except where Wash wants him, and replaces the vibrator, pushing it in slowly. “No breaks this time, Agent Washington,” Locus tells him, and Wash bucks into the air again as the buzzing resumes, overwhelming his senses so much he doesn't even notice when Locus leaves. 

Wash isn’t sure how long Locus is gone this time. Time seems to be blurring; the only sensations he can feel is the vibrator humming against his walls, his own dick against his stomach, the beads of sweat that seem to cover every inch of his skin, and the burn of the rope as he thrashes. He no longer cares if someone hears and comes to investigate; maybe they’d take pity on him,  maybe they’d  help him. His own cries are so constant that he can’t hear the vibrator any more, but he can still feel it, never stopping for a second, offering no relief. 

His shame is too far gone for Wash to think about how he must look; it’s not even want any more, it’s _need_. Hot, desperate need, and Wash is barely even aware of the pain in his jaw and his wrists and ankles, because the pleasure is so insistent it drives everything else away. 

Locus comes again, after what seems like hours have passed. His hand comes to rest on Wash’s chest, and Wash arcs up into the touch, grateful for any contact at all. The gag comes out again and Locus bends down and kisses him gently. Wash melts into it, moaning and trying to beg, to promise, to plead into Locus’s mouth. 

Locus chuckles as he finally pulls away. Wash pants, mouth open, pleading with his eyes, and Locus presses the gag back into his unprotesting mouth. 

“I have a lunch meeting in fifteen minutes.” Locus adjusts the gag thoughtfully, then checks on how the vibrator looks, adding more lube as necessary so he can just sink right in after the next meeting. Wash’s eyes are wet from all the stimulation and the strain, moving his hips into it and making soft pleading noises into the gag. “You’re trying to tempt me.” Locus pats him on the head. “Soon.”

Wash tries to remember how many meetings Locus said he had today, how many it would be before Wash got to come, but he’s dazed and he can’t take much more of this, he  _ can’t-- _

He’s no longer sure if he’s shaking from the vibrator or just his own need, but he can hear the desk rattling beneath him. He kicks his legs as much as the ropes allow, head tossing in hopes of shaking the ball gag loose and calling for someone to just come in here and fuck him. He’s desperate enough that it doesn’t matter if the entire army sees him like this, he just wants the ring off his cock and to  _ come  _ already. 

Locus is there, suddenly. “I could hear you in the hallway, Agent Washington,” Locus muses, hand carding through Wash’s hair gently. The gag comes out yet again, but the only noise Wash can make this time is a high pitched whine. He scrambles for words, but they’re not coming. 

Locus laughs, and reaches down to remove the vibrator. Wash moans, slumping against the desk. “Do you want me to fuck you, Agent Washington?” Locus tilts his head back. Wash frantically nods, still unable to speak. Smirking, Locus replaces the gag but doesn’t buckle it, letting the straps dangle down to the desk’s surface. “Try not to scream,” Locus tells him, before pulling Wash’s body towards him, using the slack in the ropes, and sinking right in, bottoming out. 

Wash can’t help but scream despite Locus’s admonishment, arching off the desk again, biting into the ball. Locus chuckles and thrusts again, and this time Wash meets him, moaning gratefully the whole while. It’s overwhelming after the vibrator; every nerve in his body seems overly receptive, and Locus is filling him up, his hands digging into Wash’s hips. After a while Locus finally seems to remember Wash’s concerns, and takes his cock in his hands.

Wash cries out again, seeing stars for a moment. Locus gives his dick a few gentle strokes and Wash falls apart even further beneath him, hips rolling, head tossing, squirming on the desk as Locus continues to fuck him, even now.

“Do you want to come, Agent Washington?” Locus asks. 

Wash doesn’t think he’s ever nodded so quickly, so frantically. Locus smirks at him and tugs the ring off before slamming into Wash all the way, coming himself. Wash cries out and comes between them, sheer relief flooding his body before everything goes dark. 

When he wakes up again he’s been untied and the gag has been removed. He’s lying on top of the desk on his side. His stomach and ass and legs are covered in cum, and Wash flushes brightly. He tries to move, to check with Locus, to see if it’s okay to leave, but then he stops. 

Locus has an arm around his waist, keeping him there. 

Wash’s muscles lock up automatically, barely daring to breathe. Locus’s body curves around him, in a way that might be comforting if it was anyone but Locus. Locus’s other hand is in his hair, and his nose is pressed against the back of his head, buried in his hair. 

“Is something wrong, Agent Washington?” Locus asks quietly. 

Wash swallows. “No.” 

Locus chuckles, and Wash shudders as it reverberates through him. “Take your rest, Agent Washington,” Locus advises. “You have this afternoon to go, still.”


End file.
